


Losing Control

by Iridian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Back to Life fic, Depression, M/M, Mentions of Masturbation, Nightmares, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Regret, Self-Esteem Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Too Little Too Late attitude, more content may be added at a later date, posted on a whim at 5 AM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 21:28:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11837391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iridian/pseuds/Iridian
Summary: It takes months after Castiel's death for Dean to realize how maddeningly in love he is with the angel.





	Losing Control

In his entire thirty eight years of life, Dean Winchester has never felt this lethargic. He goes to bed at ten every single night and wakes up at midnight, then again at one-thirty, and again at three-fifteen before he gives up and gets out of bed. Everything he could think of that might help him sleep, he gave a good shot. He even tried melatonin a few times, but he still didn't sleep through the night  _ and  _ he woke up sweating and damn near screaming at each interval, but if Dean is being honest with himself, it's like that most of the time.

Sometimes, he wonders if he makes noise during his nightmares. He has to be if he’s so close to screaming every time, right? Therefore, it's a miracle Sam hasn't caught onto this yet. His giant of a brother usually comes running at any sound of trouble, despite sleeping like a goddamn log otherwise.

He learned that the hard way when they first found the bunker. Turns out, the walls and doors aren't even close to being soundproof. Even the smallest groan slips right through to his brother’s room. Still, it's not worth it for one of them to relocate to a different bedroom. What if there’s an emergency? There's no way Dean’s going to put more space between them than is absolutely necessary. 

After being caught in the act of masturbating during their first night at the bunker, Dean has learned to be quieter and Sam has learned to differentiate between moans of pleasure and groans of struggle. That was years ago and both of them have a few unspoken rules about it to avoid another awkward encounter.

Once again, it's one-thirty and Dean is, of course, awake from his nightmare. It's always the same thing, just a little bit different each time. This time, Cas died in his arms in the back seat of the Impala. He tried to speak, but his lips were glued shut and he succeeded only in producing helpless, muffled cries. The time before that, Cas died before Dean could get to him. The only thing that doesn't change is that Dean can never say what he wants to say. Worst of all, when he wakes up with tears in his eyes, he can never figure out what he was trying to say to Cas. Isn’t that just the extra twist of the metaphorical knife in his chest? 

As much as he tries to forget, he perfectly recalls everything about those nightmares as if they were actually happening right before his eyes. He remembers the blood on Cas’ lips, running out of the corners of his mouth, down his neck, onto the tan trench coat. When Cas actually died, he didn't bleed. Dean felt like there should have been  _ something  _ to signify the angel’s violent death, but there was nothing. His face was calm, peaceful, serene, but most definitely not alive. His eyelids were closed and hiding away the blue eyes he had come to know and grow fond of. 

If he would have known he was going to lose Cas, he would have used those last moments to look at his eyes. Even if it wasn't a representation of his true form, the hints of emotion the angel felt were displayed in his irises at all times. Dean always looked toward those eyes when he was unsure of something. When the life drained out of Cas, his bright light covered up those eyes. He hated Lucifer before he killed Cas, but he made it very easy that night to want to rip him apart limb by limb.

This most recent dream has him particularly shaken for reasons he can't explain. Dean decides it's futile to try to fall back asleep tonight. Maybe he can sharpen some hunting knives or research a new case. He really needs to get back to hunting.

-

When Sam wanders into the library, it's four in the morning and his brother looks a little more disheveled than usual. His brown hair is messy, but the look of shock on his face steals Dean’s attention away from his hair. Sam is probably surprised to see Dean awake this early, and not to mention he’s completely dressed.

“What are you doing?”

“Reading an article.” Dean gestures to the laptop he has open in front of him. “Kid went missing yesterday in Denver after complaining to his mom about the monster under his bed. Same thing happened to two other kids in the town.” 

A few too many moments of silence pass, which has Dean looking up from the screen. Sam seems confused, but mostly hesitant. “What's that look for?”

“I just didn't think you'd want to get back into hunting so soon after…” Sam lets his sentence trail off for a moment, “you know.”

Dean knows.

“Doesn't matter. We’re still hunters, okay? There's still people out there that need to be saved, Sam.”

“I don't know, Dean.”

“It's been  _ a week _ .”

“It's  _ only  _ been a week.”

Dean’s jaw tenses and he pointedly looks back to his laptop screen. “We don’t need more time. We've already wasted too much of it.”

“Wasted?” Sam huffs and runs a hand through his tangled hair. “It's normal to need a buffer period after something like that.”

“Well, we've had our vacation time, so let's get back to it.”

Sam’s looking at Dean like he’s gone mad and he definitely has. Who dreams every night about their best friend dying? None of that matters, though; they  _ have  _ to get back out there and do something good. 

Cas  _ needs  _ them to go about their lives.

“Alright,” Sam agrees, but he still looks reluctant as hell, “but only if you talk about this.”

“I'm not talking about it.”

“You  _ can’t  _ keep your feelings buried all the time, Dean, it's not healthy.”

“And sitting here on our asses  _ is _ ?”

“You're supposed to heal! It's part of the grieving process and you can't get through it if-”

Dean slams his fists down on the table and pushes up from the rolling chair. “Dammit Sam, I'm fine!” He closes his laptop and unplugs the charging cable from the wall. “We’re leaving at seven.”

“Dean, wait-”

Dean doesn't wait.

-

If Cas was here, Dean imagines he would tell him that he can't let his death de-rail his life, but that's just bizarre. He was always there with him-him  _ and  _ Sam-and now he's not. Is he really supposed to just  _ move on _ ? He can’t do that. 

Truth be told, he's considered multiple times making another deal, but he can’t leave Sam and he's pretty sure it wouldn't work anyway. A demon probably can’t bring an angel back to life, as much as he wishes that was the case.

Back in his bedroom, Dean sits down on the edge of his bed and opens his laptop again to the page he was viewing before Sam walked in. Another tab is open in the browser and he clicks on it, continuing his familiar reading about various rituals that can be performed to bring someone back from the dead. Everything he’s read has been specific to bringing a  _ human  _ back to life, but he’s going to keep looking until he finds something that might work. 

_ I'm not giving up on you, Cas.  _

The imaginary Castiel in his mind has that pensive/worried expression on his face, the same one where his eyebrows draw together and his eyes go soft. 

In his mind, Cas speaks his name. Dean has to close his eyes and control his breathing for a few minutes before he can get back to work.

-

A few hours later, Dean and Sam are back on the road again. Behind the wheel of the Impala, he feels a part of him sink comfortably back into place. He needs this constant in his life. The only one he had before was the nightmares and he can’t let that control him, even if he feels helpless to them. They will come and go as they wish and right now, it looks like they’re taking an extended vacation.

He only looks at the backseat in the rearview mirror once before he corrects that painful mistake.

-

They roll into town late at night. Knowing there’s nothing they can do to help at the moment, Dean drives to a twenty four hour check-in motel. They set their bags on the table and fall into bed. It’s been a long ass day of driving and all he really wants to do right now is sleep. Sam stayed awake with him for most of the time, so he’s just as exhausted as Dean is.

When Dean lays down in the bed, under the covers and with his head comfortably supported by the pillow, he doesn’t immediately fall asleep like he thought he would. He’s scared of waking up screaming in the middle of the night, causing Sam to wake up, then he’ll see him shaking and crying and he doesn’t know if he can handle his brother seeing him like that. He has to be strong for Sam, even if he suspects his brother is trying to be strong for  _ him _ .

Eventually, the need for rest takes over and Dean falls asleep, despite how hard he tried to stay awake. 

-

_ “Cas, come on.”  _

_ In the back of his mind, Dean is shocked by the words that came out of his mouth. He can’t process why it’s so startling, because Cas is in his arms and he’s dying, but he can  _ speak  _ and he’s feeling a sudden urgency to confess something to his angel. _

_ “Cas, stay with me, alright?” He clutches onto his wrist over the tan trench coat. Cas grabs back, wrapping weak fingers around Dean’s hand and it feels so real. “I’m gonna get you out of this, I swear. You won’t hurt anymore.” He promised, searching through his brain for something to do to save Cas. “I need you, Cas, I…” He gathers his strength and with everything in him, he whispers, “I love you.” _

_ Castiel’s chest glows, a warm red shining through his many layers of clothing. The angel looks relieved. _

_ He still dies in Dean’s arms, their fingers still intertwined. _

-

“Dean?! Dean, what’s wrong?”

He curls into his pillow and tugs it down into his arms. Sam doesn’t understand and he never will. Dean doesn’t want to let himself acknowledge the deeper feelings behind his reactions. If he did, there just wouldn’t be any coming back from that.

“Dean?”

_ Go away, Sam. _ That’s what he would have said if he thought he could safely be alone right now. As much as living hurts, he can’t give up. Not after everything he’s been through, not after all that Sam and Castiel sacrificed for him. 

“I miss him.” His voice barely sounds human. Mostly, it’s filled with weakness, despair, sickness.

Sam doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. “I know.”

“You don’t know.”

“I do.” Sam insists and Dean lifts his eyes to his brother in disbelief. “I know what causes the kind of pain you’re going through. I went through it, too, when Jess died.”

There’s a million thoughts running through Dean’s head right now, but there is only one thing he can think to ask. “How long have you…?”

“I suspected for awhile, but I only knew for sure after he died.” Sam swallows and his adam’s apple bobs along with the action. “I’ve seen you come back from hell. I’ve watched you rebuild yourself from being a demon and suffering from the mark. None of it matched the pain in your eyes when Lucifer drove that angel blade through his back.”

Dean’s eyes well with tears and he turns on his side, away from Sam’s gaze. Fighting through the lump in his throat, he mutters, “I didn’t know until he was gone.”

Nothing more needs to be said and neither of them tries to keep the conversation going. Sam simply brings a glass of water to Dean and sets it down on the nightstand. He says goodnight and falls asleep. 

Dean is alone again.

-

It takes seven months for Dean to finally get a solid night of sleep. He’s incredibly shocked when he wakes up well past nine in the morning. He still dreamed, but this time he didn’t dream about Cas dying. He dreamed that the angel was here in the bunker, with him. They were researching a case and Dean reached across the table, took Castiel’s hand and told him he loved him. Castiel smiled that beautiful smile, squeezed Dean’s hand and told him he loved him, too.

They've heard nothing about Lucifer or his kid. It's almost like they both just dropped off the face of the earth. Dean has vowed that if he ever comes face to face with Lucifer again, he will fucking slaughter him. He doesn't care what personal sacrifice it takes. Lucifer fucked with Sam, tormenting him in his efforts to get him to say yes to possession. He tried to bring on the goddamn apocalypse. Then he killed Castiel. 

Heavenly grace would be nothing in comparison to a vengeful Dean Winchester. 

Stubbornly, he refused to pray to Castiel. He’s pretty sure that if there’s any form of Castiel’s consciousness still hanging around somewhere-Purgatory, Heaven, Hell, he’s not sure-that he would not hear any of Dean’s prayers, but the thought keeps nagging at him and he can’t push it aside anymore. He just can’t.

With a deep breath, Dean sits on the edge of his bed, hands on his knees, taking deep breaths to prepare himself for the mental toll this will take on him.

_ Hey, Cas, uh, I just wanted to let you know that we’re still trying to figure out a way to bring you back. I’m not giving up on you. Sam, either. We need you, man. What happened to you, it’s not fair. You deserve so much that we can’t possibly give to you and we’re going to find a way to bring you back and spoil you rotten. Bobby used to say that family doesn’t end with blood. You’re our family, like it or not. So… I guess that’s it. I just wanted to update you. I hope you’re okay, wherever you are.  _

When he’s done, Dean wipes tears from his cheeks and eyes.

As time went on, Dean slowly learned to accept that he was- _ is _ -in love with Castiel. After the dream he had in Denver so long ago, he couldn’t continue to deny it. 

So when Sam screams for Dean from across the bunker, says it’s Castiel, his entire being is overwhelmed. He takes off in the sound of Sam’s voice and finds his brother in one of the empty bedrooms.

Sam is kneeling down next to an unconscious Castiel. His chest is rising and falling. He’s  _ breathing _ . 

“I don't know what happened, I-I just heard a loud crash and then-then here he was!” Sam is panicking, as is Dean, but the adrenaline is translating into action.

“We need to get him on the bed.” Dean moves to lift Castiel’s top half. Sam just stares at him for a second and Dean snaps, “Come on, Sam, help me out here!”

Once Cas is on the bed, Dean feels it all crash into him. His angel-he’s here and he’s alive. He just needs to wake up and then they will take care of him and spoil him rotten like he told Cas they would in his prayer. He’ll do anything that the angel asks for. He could ask to go to Disneyland and Dean would take him as soon as they could book the trip. He could ask for a thousand hamburgers and Dean would call all of the closest burger joints and have them all start making the grease patties at the same time so he could stop by each one in order to pick them up. 

Cas could ask for Dean’s still beating heart and he would reach into his chest and give it to him.

“You okay, Dean?”

Reluctantly, he tears his eyes away from Castiel and looks at Sam. His brother looks almost as shaken as he feels. It takes him a few seconds to form comprehensible words.

“Just wasn’t expecting this. Especially not today.”

“Yeah,” Sam huffs out a laugh of disbelief, “neither was I.” He scratches the back of his head and shakes his head. “Alright, I’m gonna leave.”

“What? Why?”

“I just think it would be better if you guys had some time alone. He’ll want to see you first.” Dean goes to interrupt with how ridiculous that is, but Sam holds up his hand and continues talking. “It’s the truth and I’m not offended. Just trust me on this one, okay?”

Dean swallows, debating the idea and nodding his agreement. Sam leaves and suddenly he feels incredibly nervous. What if Cas is mad at him for letting him die? If he is angry, he wouldn’t blame him. He has every right to be pissed. If he wanted to yell and scream, Dean would sit there and listen to him and apologize until his throat was raw.

Feeling heavier and weaker than he has in a very long time-and that’s saying something-Dean pulls a decorative chair over to his bedside and sits down in it, running his hands over his face. He wants to see the angel’s beautiful eyes again and involuntarily, he’s getting impatient. It’s been too long- _ way _ too long since he got to look at him and now that he’s here, he can’t be satisfied with that because he can’t see his eyes? Dean’s probably the most selfish person he knows. He just  _ really  _ loves those eyes. 

He just really loves  _ Castiel _ .

As if he heard Dean’s thoughts, Castiel’s eyes open slowly, blinking him into awareness. Almost immediately, those amazing blue irises land on the hunter. Pressure builds in Dean’s chest.

“I love you.”

Apparently, he’s just going to blurt things out before Cas gets a chance to talk.

“I love you so much, Cas.”

Castiel pushes himself up into a sitting position. “I know you do.”

Oh, Dean forgot how much he missed Cas’ voice. Now that he’s thinking about the things he missed about Cas, he’ll just start a running list, starting with his eyes and ending  _ never _ .

“Yeah.” Dammit, he’s tearing up again. What the fuck is up with that? He hasn’t stopped crying for  _ months _ . “I’m sorry I never told you before now. I-I was stupid and scared, Cas. I just couldn’t come to terms with it. I’m sorry, Cas, I’m so fucking sorry. You deserve so much better than some idiot who can’t tell you how he feels, but I swear, you are the best thing that ever happened to us-to  _ me _ and I’ll never be able to-”

“Stop talking, Dean.”

Dean shuts his mouth and rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes to clear them of their tears. Of course, he shouldn’t have opened his mouth unless it was to ask Cas if he was okay, which he didn’t even do.

“I heard your prayer.”

Inexplicable happiness courses through Dean’s veins when he hears that. “You did?”

“I heard all of your prayers.”

“But I only prayed to you once.”

“Consciously, you only prayed to me once.” Castiel moves his legs off the side of the bed and plants them on the ground. “I was there with you this entire time, Dean.”

Dean’s chest tightens. “In the nightmares?”

“Yes, in your nightmares.” Castiel confirms, making an attempt to stand up. Just before he crumbles, Dean lurches forward to catch him.

“Hey, take it easy, alright? You’ve been through a lot.” Dean holds him by his biceps and Cas holds his hands over Dean’s, just like he did in the dream he had in Denver.

“I was with you whenever I could be. Whenever you thought about me, there was a certain pull. You may not have felt my presence every time, but I was  _ always  _ there. During all of your strife, when you were sick, whenever you felt as if living was hopeless,  _ I was there _ .” His muscles were trembling with tremors so strong they traveled through the fabric and into Dean’s fingers. “You were never alone, Dean.”

He doesn’t know what to say. Cas is back, he’s holding him, and the angel is telling him that he was by his side the entire time, Dean just couldn’t see him. For some reason, the knowledge brings an abundance of fresh tears to his eyes. The only thing he can do is embrace Castiel tightly. 

Castiel melts into Dean’s arms and presses his nose into the fabric of his flannel, inhaling slowly. If it was anyone else, Dean might think this was weird and uncomfortable, but Cas has given so much that he’ll let him sniff his shirt any goddamn time he wants to.


End file.
